I Ran

She had this hedonistic Houdini nature,
She escaped from Shiraz,
Her personal Alcatraz,
She laughed as I asked;
How did you escape?

"I Ran" she said "I Ran"

She was particularly Persian,
Beautiful soul,
Perfect prose,
stunning, gorgeous,
My dreams came true,
As we ran the gauntlet between our acquaintances judgemental glare.

She walked through the door,
With shallow breath and a panting chest;
Windswept hair.
Late.

How did you get here I asked?

"I Ran"

She came so far,
To say I was her King.
Her shy Shah,
She said.
The concept of this,
Flew over my head,

As I asked where she was from,
she paused for a second

&

told me she came from Iran.

His heart sinks in his stomach
Gasping for air.
Being the bad guy is to easy you know why?
Cause they just don't care..
My friend forgive me for burning walls where my hands rip and tare.
Here is The man that sits upon a Liars Chair!
I was here to help not provoke your thoughts,
In heaven it's counted on earth it's someone else's lunch.
I can't eat right now it feels like your one hand shake from leaving me today.
I'm weird I know
Am I suppose to leave? I'll go..
Are you uncomfortable let me know
In this life I just don't wanna lose you on second thought ...I .....hate me bro

do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.

Sunday morning,
the air froze, the dahlias
once bloomed angry,
now they shiver and sigh.

Autumn breeze, faint but still,
the padded ghost-steps
of your laugh, running wild,
like vintage photographs;
scattered Polaroids of
my memory - a smile here,
a grimace there.

How the heat of
emotions buries itself
in the clothes of yesterday,
How difficult it is to
fetch from the seams.
The needles only *****
at a faint feeling.

I wonder; do you forget me
as winter forgets the living?

Because once an old man
told me I had sad eyes

Sunsets melt to chalky lines,
like cigarette stubs, they died
when you met her.

These days only my fingers
remember summer,
I touch the hearts of others
to warm them too.

My voice wind chimes,
the eulogy of the storm,
when I breath your
name I shudder...

And listen-
because I am in
the echoes
of her, of us.

An inbetween job
That's all it was
I forgot I was accomplished
Cleaning up your crap
I learned that it takes
Physical endurance
Flawless efficiancy
And fierce organisation
And above everything else
Healthy intelligence
To do what these girls do everyday
Supervising the girls
I learned compassion
A few months ago it was me
And guess what?
I learned humility.
It was beautiful
I learned that whatever pit
I get stuck in
I always grow out of it
I've never let hierarchy limit me
Never looking down on
My people on the floor again
But elevate them above everything else
Because it is on their backs
That the economy grows
I made no mistake
I took the job
And turned it all in my advantage
This will look great on my cv
Because that's how
I will see it.

Silently he watched the wind, blow
The smoke against the lifeless figures, laughing
At the release of life, praying
As the dust changed the landscape, time
Scattered the bones, but
The soul screamed indignity, venging
As time buried him deeper, the
Devil watched, dispatching angels, portents of death
Screamed the land awake, turning
The dark blood red, tearing
At flesh screaming into the night.
The pain was as deep as the loss
The loss eternal
The people ran
They ran for their lives
Roofs on fire
From a distance,
Looking much like
Large camp fires
Slowly merging in to each other
The people screamed
Had it not been for the vanity
Of the deranged king
The restless village
Would be but that:
Restless
As the deranged king
Reigned with an iron fist


Lily Nurmi & Paul Gaffney Production